


The Reluctant Vampyre

by OllyJay



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 04:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12573988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllyJay/pseuds/OllyJay
Summary: OracleofDoom here is my Halloween fic, it has revealing costumes, candy, trick or treaters, monsters, a pumpkin and a ghost. I was supposed to put in a spider too but only just remembered that now. (Shall I admit that my entire knowledge of Halloween is based on American TV programmes? Or is that fairly obvious?)Happy Halloween!





	The Reluctant Vampyre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OracleofDoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleofDoom/gifts).



> This is set sometime between _Ruddy Gore_ and _Away with the Fairies_.
> 
> Solitary_cyclist did her best but I gave her practically no time to beta this so any mistakes must sit fairly on my shoulders - LOL

The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher guided the Hispano-Suiza smoothly into the space outside Roger Fairfield’s downtown Melbourne apartment block. Humming to herself, she checked hair and lipstick in her compact mirror. Stunning, as expected, she thought as she gave herself an approving wink. She checked to see if any cars were coming before swinging her door open. You could never trust people - the number of unsafe drivers on the roads now-a-days was simply ludicrous. She wondered vaguely if there was anyone she could raise that with. Still humming she made her way to the front door, and came to a complete standstill.

Crouching just inside the foyer was a figure, clad in overcoat and fedora, that she would know anywhere. She took a moment to admire the strong thighs and broad shoulders of her sometimes partner in crime fighting - a phrase which rather tickled her. And then sighed, recognising the inevitable complications this would cause with her evenings activities - Jack Robinson was like a magnet for crime, it was physically impossible for the man to go twenty fours hours without tripping over at least one dead body. Most days this suited her perfectly, but tonight she had other plans and they were too important to be disrupted by the Victorian police force.

Hugh, standing directly in front of the Inspector, looked up from his notebook, his eyes widening and cheeks reddening. Oh, how delightful, she thought, exactly the reaction she had been aiming for. She rewarded him with a wide smile, he really was so sweet and an exact match for dear, innocent Dot - it was always so gratifying when people stumbled across their soulmate. Now, enough of the romantic day dreaming, she had an Inspector to beguile, confuse and confound. She glanced at her wristwatch - and exactly five minutes to do it in. Like taking candy from a… trick or treater! Oh, she really was on form tonight! 

Jack meantime was muttering away, presumably at Hugh but if so he was wasting his time, the lad was clearly struggling to focus. She decided to allow herself the pleasure of listening to the beautiful tones of his voice, it really was criminal to give such a delicious gift to such an unplayful man. His was a voice that could, and therefore should, charm birds from the trees, the sun from behind clouds, and have women swooning across the globe. Instead he was saying, “Why is there a dead vampyre in the middle of this swanky Melbourne apartment block?”

Whoops, it was worse than she had thought. Phryne finally bothered to look at the body that Jack was examining. And realised it was her date. Oblivious to her consternation, Jack continued to speak, “And how has a bullet from a standard revolver managed to kill Count Dracula? Collins, have you been tampering with the crime scene? You haven’t, for example, removed a wooden stake from his heart?” Hugh looked puzzled and slightly affronted. “No, sir. Why would I…” Jack waved his hand at him, “I was joking, Collins. Do you read nothing but police procedurals?” Hugh, quite rightly in Phryne’s opinion, gave no response.

Still unaware of her presence, Jack carried on, “Honestly, these people are so childish. Why a grown man would want to dress up like this is beyond me. Thank goodness we haven’t been subjected to his date.” Hugh shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and coughed. “No doubt she’s supposed to be one of ‘the weird sisters’ or something equally ridiculous.” Hugh coughed again. “I agree, Collins, it is nothing more than an excuse to dress scandalously. Not that these people really need an excuse to behave inappropriately.” This time Hugh went into a full coughing fit and Jack looked up at him concerned.

Perfect timing, she thought. “Hello, Jack!” She could actually see him cringe. “Would you like to hazard a guess as to who his date might be? I can assure you that her costume is every bit as seductive and voluptuous as you are no doubt imagining.” To his credit, he reacted quite quickly, rising to his feet and by the time he turned to her there wasn’t a hint of embarrassment on his face. “Miss Fisher,” he said by way of greeting. She wanted to point out that those two words in themselves weren’t actually a greeting but given the amount of expression he always put into her name that was churlish because you could hear the implied greeting. Or disapproval. Or amusement. He really did have the most wonderful voice.

She walked over to stand beside him. Right beside him. “This is very disappointing,” she said, “I had plans for tonight that Roger was an integral part of.” Jack cleared his throat before observing, “I’m sure, if Mr Fairfield were able, he would proffer his most sincere apologies for inconveniencing you.” He checked his watch in an overly dramatic way, “In fact, when the sun sets he will no doubt rise and tell you that himself.” 

He paused as though deep in thought, “Or perhaps he’ll come back as a ghost?” He looked at her. “Unfortunately, that won’t match you, though…” he tilted his head, “...maybe you could put a pumpkin on your head?” She looked at him, tapping her foot in a way that she hoped suggested she was not amused. “Has it occurred to you that Roger and I may in fact be childhood friends and that I might actually be quite upset?” Jack stared at her for a moment. “No,” he replied, “were you?” She felt slightly disgruntled. “Well, no actually - but that’s not really the point.” Jack smirked and walked away to, well she wasn’t really sure why he walked away. 

“You were explaining, Miss Fisher, your relationship to the deceased.” Ah, he had walked away so he could stare at her sternly whilst interrogating her. “Was I, Inspector?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Yes, you were,” he started writing in his notebook. “You had explained that Mr Fairfield was not an acquaintance of long standing, however you were attending an…” he looked her up and down in a thoroughly disapproving manner, “...event of some description with him this evening. Were you perhaps acting in some sort of child’s play?” She snorted, “I hardly think this,” she spun gracefully on the spot, “is the sort of thing you would see in a child’s play.” 

She was particularly pleased by the way in which Jack had been unable to hide his appreciation of the glimpse of her thighs that the twirl had given him. He scribbled something down in his notebook. “What did you just write?” she demanded. “Nothing,” he replied. “Yes, you did. You wrote something down about me. I just saw you.” She was not letting him get away with this, she snatched the notebook out of his hands. Hugh gasped in disbelief and Jack looked equally surprised. She was outraged. “ _The witness was not armed._ Jack Robinson, how do you know I’m not armed?” 

He looked at her, clearly torn between exasperation and amusement. She knew this because it was one of his most common expressions when talking with her. “Because, Phryne, other than your garter there is nowhere in that costume where you could conceal a weapon. And you have just demonstrated to us both,” he waved absentmindedly at Hugh, “that you are wearing almost nothing under that outfit. I certainly didn’t see a knife or gun, what about you, Collins?”

Hugh cleared his throat, nervously, “Um, no sir. I didn’t see anything.” They both turned to stare at him, which made him go even redder. “Nothing, Collins? You didn’t see anything?” Jack asked him. “No, sir. Sorry, sir. I closed my eyes,” he confessed. Jack raised his eyebrows, “You are, sometimes, surprisingly wise, Collins.” Phryne smirked. Jack would never close his eyes, she had yet to see him back away from a challenge. Making him blush though? Now that was a personal quest.

“If you really want to know,” which, as he was investigating a murder, he obviously did, “Roger was a client.” Jack looked at the body, “I hope you got paid in advance.” He crouched back down, clearly intending for her to join him. Which she did. “Multiple gunshot wounds in the vicinity of the heart. Fairly decent shots, actually.” She nodded in agreement, good shooting, quick, efficient and sure. “Is it possible that this is related to your investigation?” he asked. “I’m almost sure it is,” she confirmed.

Suddenly, the very best plan possible occurred to her. “Here’s what we need to do, Jack.” His answering grimace merely spurred her on. “Fortunately, you and Roger are a very similar build.” This was partly true but Jack was obviously more toned, and fit, and just generally more delicious… but that was not really the point. As though reading her mind, he was already rearranging his face into an emphatic ‘No’. She placed her hand on his forearm, leaning in so he would be surrounded by her scent, and, if he chose to look down, would have an excellent view of her well corseted bosom. As always, this tactic failed.

“Absolutely not, Miss Fisher,” he said. She tried a pout, which was equally unsuccessful. He continued, “These Halloween parties are nothing but a thin disguise for debauchery.” She opened her mouth, to deny this… but, as she was basically an honest person, she shut it again. She stared at the body silently. Eventually he returned his eyes to the body also. After a while he spoke, “Do you really think that his death is related to your case?” She nodded. “And you believe attending this… function as him will draw out the killer?” She nodded again.

Jack stood up. “I suppose I could fit into the suit, not the shirt though,” he looked at the bloodied and holely garment, “that may be a touch too authentic.” She stood as well, reached into her bosom and withdrew an apartment key, “I’ll just pop up to his room and grab another.” He looked at her, “Why do you… no, forget it, I don’t want to know.” She smiled, in what she hoped was an endearing way, “You’re the one whose motto is ‘pleasure and business don’t mix’, not me.” She flounced away, making sure to exaggerate the swing of her hips. When she reached the elevator and turned swiftly, she was pleased to catch his eyes moving guiltily, up to her face.

“And, Jack? Just for the record, the debauchery is entirely optional,” she opened the safety gate, hesitated and said over her shoulder, “But do let me know if you get the urge.” He blushed. As the lift took her swiftly away, she congratulated herself, it had taken just under ten minutes to destroy his composure.


End file.
